In the Kitchen Chapel

In the Kitchen Chapel I stood in the middle of a kitchen filledwith rhythms and rites and texturesthat soothe like prayer does.Rising like incense from a thurible panfull of chilis and smoked paprika,onions and garlic and grace and a couple of shallots.A small dice with a sharp knife, a blessing sought,a scrape toward a surface…

Rock my Soul

I was listening to a talk by Dr. Ysaye Marie Barnwell this morning where she asked what it would be like to live as though our soul was being rocked. What would that do to how we moved, how we spoke, sang, walked, danced? How would that change how we felt and what we communicated…

Simply and Expansively Say what you will of me,I am more and I am beyondthe contour, the inflection, the sonorous limitationof any language. Find an image that sings to you of meand know that it is a single facet, a prismatic humming seen with a side-eye glance and I will always, will always, be more. Try and…

Is-ness

A friend shared this poem with me this morning and I loved it…Maybe some of my love for it is the weather of late. There have been some heavenly days in the last little while: the finest of August offerings…deep everlasting blue in the background with crisp greens in relief, leafy shadow art upon the…

Upon my hands

It was a beautiful beginning to my day… time at the Farmer’s Market; coffee and breakfast by the sea; pen and paper and time; and the joy of an inspiring cool breeze moving through the kitchen. Can’t begin to describe the good that this sort of thing does for me… Upon my hands My cupped…

Found in Translation

These last couple of days have found me engaged with an interesting project…If ever I wondered what it would be like to see, feel, sense, the inner structure of language (and I have)—translating music lyrics of one language into singable lyrics of another is a taste of what that might be like. I found myself…

Nearer My God

Nearer my God I have been knownto pray before flying a kite—letting my words settle onto thatwhich soon will know the airborne physicsof current, of loft, and find itselfnearer my God to thee,rising, rising, risingand once again returning,having scattered the seeds of my syllablesand ridden the laughter of wind. Kimberly M. King, rscj

Stayin’ Alive

Technically, I was born into the age of disco…though admittedly I was only just trying my hand at cursive writing during its heyday. Because of the music played in my childhood home, I knew the words to songs of The Who and the Rolling Stones before I ever knew about MacArthur Park and I’m pretty…

Bone and Feeling

For the last little while, I have taken my breakfast by the sea, more often than not. I go around 6:30…thermos of coffee and simple meal–sometimes an oatcake wrapped in a cloth napkin; other times, a jar of ‘cold oats,’–one of my summertime favourites. I read, I write, I pray… I don’t need to stay…

Mutterings of a Mood

The Mood of the Sea Beside you at the new day’s rising, Isee the hologram of your surface,sometimes silver, sometimes grey.I hear the craggy momentum of history upon glacial shore;and the soft edges of a heron in morning contemplation;The crumb of my biscuit is salted by your ranting;my spirit is cleansed by your laughter’s salinity….